


Another Ghost To Follow

by allisonmartined



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immortal AU. Merlin and Morgana live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Ghost To Follow

  
They survive by the skin of their teeth. But they survive. Not together, not apart.

It ends with Arthur.

Merlin watches his skin age, watches his eyes grow tired, watches his soul grow weak.

When they were young they had no idea what was in store for them. They had no idea how simple choices affect everything.

Sometimes Merlin tries to fit the puzzle pieces together. He tries to make sense of the past. But the pieces never seem to fit.

Arthur dies under a clear blue sky and a golden sun. The day shines for him, for their King Arthur.

Morgana weeps over him. She’s a broken soul, all her dark spells lost in her tears, her revenge a long forgotten memory.

Merlin feels as if his soul has been ripped out and hacked in two. He feels like an empty man and the ache is more unbearable than anything he’s ever suffered.

The war between them ends like this. Without Arthur, there is nothing left.

They can sense each other in the most basic way. She’s part of him, like she’s ingrained in his soul and he can feel her there, feel her heart beating. But they are apart, much as they were before. Always sensing, never touching the surface.

For too many years time floats by and Merlin remains still.

He thinks there’s a reason people don’t live forever. The heart and the soul can’t withstand it. He grieves Arthur and Gwen and he grieves Camelot. For centuries upon centuries he grieves them.

And then, out of nowhere it seems, though nothing is quite out of nowhere, he realizes, he sees her mulling over fruit in a small shop in London.

Her hair hangs over her shoulder in a sleek ponytail. She’s looking down but he can spot her concentrated frown and long eyelashes.

He vaguely wonders why he didn’t sense her, but he’s too distracted by the sight of her to care much. She’s lovely and he has no idea how he had forgotten such an obvious fact.

She looks up and her eyes are frozen on him. The apple in her hand slips through her fingers and on to the floor.

 _Merlin_. He can hear her voice in his head. And he thinks back, _Morgana_.

They silently slip into each other’s lives. They don’t talk much, not at all. But there’s this familiar sense of _being_ with them. And it feels comfortable, it feels safe.

They don’t use magic anymore, not in this life. They once thought magic was everything. But magic was corruptible. Magic let them destroy their home, the people they loved. Magic was the catalyst in some way and they weren’t ready to control it just yet.

Talking slowly becomes necessary. She tells him that she’s a librarian and he laughs and says he didn’t think she could be still that long. She smiles a sad smile and says that the storm takes its toll. He understands, of course he understands. He tells her that he’s a novelist and she asks to read his work. He says okay and she smiles. He wants her to always smile, he realizes.

He kisses her, threads his fingers through her silk hair. Their bodies press together against a wall and his kisses trail down her neck and over her shoulder blade. She pulls his shirt over his head and the rest of their clothing follows, creating a mangled heap of fabrics on the floor.

She lets out a last shaky breath as her body recovers and Merlin smiles from above her, hands still firmly pressed against her hips, forehead drooping down to hers. He brings a hand up to trace a pendant that hangs from a chain around her neck. The green rock shimmers as he touches it. A cloaking amulet, she informs him, to hide them from anyone magical. Just in case, she says, a small smile playing on her lips.

That’s the unspoken fear, of course, being found.

Sometimes, when he watches her sleep, he wonders if she misses it, the power. He wonders if she ever hopes they find her. He thinks she does, just enough to count. But he doesn’t think he would love her if she didn’t. Power is part of their being.

He would like to say that they lived happily ever after, but he’s not sure that even happens. They lived. And they lived together. He thinks that’s enough.


End file.
